Daryl Dixon - Not Alone
by RenoSinclair25
Summary: Daryl blames himself for what happened at the prison and can't bottle up the feelings any longer.


Daryl Dixon - Not Alone

The sun was just starting to go down when Daryl came back. I was starting to get worried because he was away longer than he usually is when he goes hunting. Normally he's back within about an hour of leaving our makeshift camp, and even though I knew he could handle himself, I started to worry after he'd been gone since noon.

He came back carrying three rabbits, two brown and one that had originally been white, but was now soiled with bloodstains, with his crossbow slung over his back as per usual. I knew something wasn't quite right; when he began tending to the rabbits, I could see that his hands were visibly shaking. Taking a closer look I saw that his whole form was trembling - and call me crazy, but I didn't think it was because it was a cold day. I looked to his face and I could tell he was exhausted, he looked younger than he usually did and... fragile. It was strange to see him like that. The circles under his eyes definitely looked darker than usual so he obviously hadn't been sleeping. I had heard him murmuring in his sleep. I hadn't paid it any mind because he used to do the same at the prison, maybe he's still haunted by his memories from before the turn.

His hair was unkempt and over his eyes as usual, but i could see they were red and looked unfocused; telltale signs he'd been crying.

"Daryl... are you okay?" I asked.

He just nodded. It's like he was refusing to look at me. Had I done something wrong? I knew I hadn't. If I had wronged him in any way, boy would I know about it. That's the thing about Daryl, he doesn't like showing his feelings, like he doesn't trust anyone. I don't get it, but that's just Daryl.

"Daryl, there's no one else here, you can talk to me." I tried again.

Then something happened that I hadn't seen since he'd found his way back to the prison after seeing his brother, Merle, as a Walker... he was crying. Quiet sobs and small whimpers, his eyes scrunched shut and a hand near his mouth, trying to suppress his emotions. He doesn't understand that it doesn't work like that, that you can't keep it all bottled up and expect it to be okay - that one day, he'd snap.

I got up gently, not making any sudden movements and slowly crossed the small camp. That's another thing about Daryl, you have to go slow, you have to understand that he's fragile and you have to understand that he's damaged.

I slowly reached out my hand, which would have rested gently on his shoulder had he not seen it coming and flinched away. For the first time since he returned from his hunt, he looked at me. Right into my eyes with his own bright green ones. I could see the hurt and I could see guilt... and shame.

"Daryl...?" I urged, keeping a low tone as not to alarm him in his sensitive state.

A minute went by in silence. A slow minute. All the while still looking at me with those piercing green eyes, like he was searching me - seeking some sort of security, the way a scared child looks at their mother in hopes that they'll make the pain go away.

I think the biggest question for Daryl was, could he trust me?

"... Thas' the point..." He started, "there's no one else here, 'cause ever'one we know, is dead." He said, in a slightly higher pitch than I was used to hearing.

"Daryl, you don't know tha-" He cut me off before I could finish.

"Maybe if I'd done somethin', maybe if.. maybe if I'd kept lookin'.. maybe they'd still be alive!"

His voice cracked and he went to get up, but I put my arms around him before he could stand, he struggled for a few seconds but I refused to let go. He stopped struggling and his head lolled forward as his breathing hitched and he began to sob.

I leant my cheek against his back, the leather of his old waistcoat cold against my face, with my arms still wrapped tightly around him, waiting for him to calm down. When he eventually did and his sobs had died down, I gingerly unwrapped my arms and leant him back so he was laid on my chest, then decided on the risky move of running my fingers through his hair, which was damp due to the rain.

I thought he'd move away, but he just lay there quietly while I stroked his hair, obviously content with the warmth and comfort I was providing.


End file.
